“My back is flat.”
“Ethan, your back looks like a camel's hump.”
I collapse onto the yoga mat with a groan, my limbs splayed out in defeat. “I'm done. Yoga has defeated me. Tell my family I died doing something I hated.”
Natalie laughs and drops down beside me. “You lasted longer than I expected.”
“How long?”
“Almost twelve minutes.”
“Twelve minutes of torture.” I turn my head to look at her. She's flushed from the exercise, and her eyes are crinkled with amusement. “I’m glad you enjoyed watching me suffer.”
“A little bit.” She grins. “The great Ethan Ward, brought down by a simple sun salutation.”
“There was nothing simple about that.”
“We'll work up to it. Rome wasn't built in a day.”
“Rome didn't have to put its foot behind its head.”
She laughs again, and I reach over and grab her waist, pulling her onto my lap. She comes willingly, straddling me right there on the yoga mat.
“This is my kind of stretching,” I say.
“This isn't stretching. This is you being inappropriate.”
“I'm very flexible when it comes to being inappropriate.”
I kiss her, and she melts into me, her hands bracing against my chest. The kiss deepens, and I'm about to suggest we move this to the bedroom when my phone rings.
I ignore it, but then it rings again.
“You should get that,” Natalie says, pulling back.
“It can wait.”
It rings a third time, and I groan, reaching for it on the coffee table. The screen shows Mom, and my stomach tightens. “Mom?”
“Ethan.” Her voice is strained, and instantly fear lodges itself in my chest. “I didn't want to worry you, but Bella said I had to call.”
I sit up, shifting Natalie off my lap. “What happened?”
“It's your father. He fell last night trying to get from his chair to the bed. He didn't want to wake me up, so he tried to do it himself and...” She takes a shaky breath. “He broke his hip, sweetheart. He's in surgery right now.”
My stomach drops. “How bad is it?”
“The doctors say the surgery is straightforward, but with his MS, recovery is going to be complicated. There's a risk it could trigger a flare-up but they’ll monitor him closely.”
“Why didn't you call me last night?”
“It was late and there was nothing you could do. I didn't want you to worry when you couldn't be here.”
“I should have been there.” Guilt crashes over me. The last time my father was in the hospital, I stayed in New York becausetraveling was too difficult with my knee. Not this time. “I'm coming home.”
“Ethan, this will interfere with your recovery,” Mom says.
“My recovery can wait. I'll be there by tonight.”
